


A Different Kind of Fireworks

by flowerfan



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Fluff, M/M, New Year's Day, Post-CA:TWS, Reunion, holiday fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-26 10:23:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13233705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowerfan/pseuds/flowerfan
Summary: The holidays don’t dispel Steve’s loneliness… but a New Year’s day surprise does the trick.





	A Different Kind of Fireworks

“Come on, one more round,” Clint says, doing some silly thing with his eyebrows that makes Natasha grin. Natasha and Bruce agree, and Steve sighs softly to himself as Clint deals the cards. Bruce had received a special superhero expansion deck for Cards Against Humanity for Christmas, and the group has been hanging out in the tower common room playing it whenever their more civilized presence wasn’t required.

This year’s holiday calendar has been much like the year before – a fancy fundraising party a few days before Christmas to show off the team, a sumptuous dinner just for the Avengers and their colleagues to encourage bonding, and then various PR events to take advantage of the good will of the holiday season. Steve doesn’t mind it too much. His favorite assignment this year was visiting kids at a children’s hospital ward. Steve knows what it’s like to be too sick to enjoy Christmas. He sometimes feels like he still is.

Because for all the jollity of the Avenger’s end of the year schedule, it rings false too often for Steve. He knows all about “found family,” and he’s grateful for the friendships he has formed over the past few years. Sam, in particular, has gone above and beyond, quietly supporting him as he spent months on a fruitless search for a ghost. But there’s still something missing for Steve, and the festive chaos of the holidays does nothing to fill that space. No amount of champagne served at black tie galas can make up for what Steve has lost.

Steve shakes his head, trying to get a grip. He has his health, a job that means something, people who care about him. He thinks back to the little girl he met at the hospital, who seemed to want nothing more than to pelt him with questions about Iron Man (who was notably absent), able to ignore for at least a few minutes the fact that she probably won’t live to see the end of this new year. In comparison Steve’s life is no tragedy, and he wishes he could appreciate that fact.

Pepper joins them, laughing for a few minutes at whatever ridiculousness Clint is peddling, and then hands them each a stack of shiny eight by tens to sign, thank you’s for donors who emptied their pockets at the New Year’s Eve charity dinner last night. “Sorry to disrupt your game,” Pepper says, not looking sorry at all. “The holidays are over. Time to get back to work.”

Steve knows that signing glossy photos of himself holding his shield is objectively better than having to actually go out and throw his shield at bad guys, and yet after a week of enforced down time, he’s wishing for just a tiny bit of trouble. Anything to get out of his own head. It might help to go to the gym and work out some of his negativity. Either that or schedule a one on one “coffee” with Sam to talk about why Steve is apparently incapable of enjoying the happiest time of the year.

“Hey, do you happen to know when Tony’s coming back?” Natasha asks, waving her silver marker at Pepper. “I need him to invent a better pen.”

“What, not pointy enough for you?” Clint asks, holding his marker up and making stabby motions. “Better be careful what you ask for. Although,” Clint looks thoughtfully at his marker, “exploding pens would make this more interesting.”

“He’s supposed to be home today,” Pepper responds, with a quick look at Steve. He’s not sure what he’s got to do with Tony’s absence, or his reappearance, but he shrugs it off and goes back to signing photos. Tony hasn’t filled Steve in on his current side mission, and it hadn’t occurred to Steve to be concerned. Everyone is entitled to their own business. Tony may be the worst at remembering that, but he deserves privacy just the same.

Several hours later, after a low key New Year’s day dinner refreshingly free of cranberries or mulled cider or anything decorated in red and green, Tony makes his entrance. He looks exhausted, still in the black long sleeved shirt and leggings he wears under his suit.

Most of the group waves lazily from the table, shouting out greetings. Tony nods and “happy new year’s” back at them, but he doesn’t sit down. Instead, he meets Steve’s eyes and motions him over.

“Stark,” Steve says, joining Tony by the door. “Everything okay?”

Tony meets his eyes. “I think it will be. You should go up to your floor.”

Steve feels a shiver run through him at Tony’s guarded expression, and doesn’t bother to argue. It takes no time at all to jog up the five flights of stairs to his quarters, and then Steve is standing outside his own door. Probably Tony has just got him some new toy, a coffee maker that doubles as a kiln, or some other modern day nonsense. No reason to get excited.

But Steve can’t help the fact that his heart is beating hard in his chest. When he opens the door and steps inside, he gasps for breath, as if the serum never entered his blood.

There’s a man standing by the window, looking out over the city. It’s dark in the room, lit only by the lights on the tree, but there’s no question in Steve’s mind who it is.

“Bucky,” he breathes out, and the man turns. He’s broader in the shoulders than the boy Steve knew, and his hair is still long, like the last time Steve saw him. Steve strides forward, then stops himself when the man tenses.

“Sorry, sorry-” Steve puts his hands up, then clasps them together, almost in prayer, to keep himself from reaching out. “Bucky. Are – are you – you? Do you remember…?”

“More or less,” the man says, and Steve is so relieved that Bucky is responding to his name, with none of that heartbreaking “who the hell is Bucky” crap, that he can almost breathe again.

“Oh my god, Bucky,” Steve says, “thank god. Thank god.”

“Not sure he had much to do with it,” Bucky replies. 

Steve would laugh at the wry humor in Bucky’s voice, if his throat wasn’t tight enough to sob. “No?”

“Not unless he’s come back as Stark.”

Suddenly it all makes sense – the sneaking around, the side mission, the look from Pepper. Steve may need to seriously reevaluate how he feels about Tony. “Tony found you?” 

Bucky grunts, as if insulted by the idea. “I let him arrange a meet. He had information I needed. Some offshoot HYDRA assholes were ramping up to frame me, use me for some awful plan.” 

Suddenly Steve’s stomach sinks. Bucky isn’t here for him. He’s not actually coming home, coming back to Steve. He’s just avoiding capture. Outsmarting HYDRA.

“Okay,” Steve says, trying to find something to say that doesn’t reveal his disappointment. “That’s um, that’s good. That Tony helped, I mean, he can definitely be helpful sometimes. And that you, um, got away. From HYDRA. Or, whoever.”

Bucky doesn’t seem to be listening to him anymore, which isn’t surprising given the dreck that’s coming out of his mouth. He’s looking around the room, with nothing on his face giving away any shred of emotion, until his eyes land on the Christmas tree.

“Kind of narcissistic, isn’t it? Ornaments of yourself?”

Steve feels his face flush. “Tony got them for all of us.” The tree is decorated with little mini-Avengers in holiday colors, as well as sparkly little shields for Steve, sharp arrows for Clint, horrifying spiders for Nat, and so on.

“You’re friends, then,” Bucky says. “With these people.”

“They’re my team.” 

Bucky doesn’t comment further, and doesn’t move, just stays there, eyes looking somewhere just past Steve’s shoulder. At attention, Steve thinks. The literal opposite of at ease. Get your head out of your ass and help him, Steve thinks, and swiftly readjusts his attitude.

“Bucky, please, sit down. Make yourself comfortable.” He waves at the couch, and Bucky comes a little closer and takes a seat in the corner. He’s wearing a leather jacket and a dark red shirt that strains across his chest, worn jeans and black work boots. “Can I get you something to eat?”

Bucky’s eyes flash up at him, wary, and Steve tries to make his body relax. There’s no danger here, he tries to project. Not from me. Not ever from me.

Steve moves into his little kitchen, still visible from the living area, and opens the refrigerator. “How about roast beef?”

“Sure.”

Steve occupies himself for a few minutes, cutting thick slices of the rye bread Tony has delivered from his favorite deli, piling it high with roast beef and sharp cheddar cheese. “Do you want some root beer? I’ve got that, or orange juice, or water...”

Bucky doesn’t respond, so Steve opens a bottle of root beer and brings it over, setting it down with the sandwich on the coffee table.

Bucky frowns at the single plate. “You’re not going to eat?” Steve wonders if he’s remembering all the times they struggled to put food on the table. He thinks he is, when Bucky takes half his sandwich and holds it out to Steve.

It doesn’t matter that Steve’s been living in the lap of luxury since he joined the Avengers, it’s the best sandwich he’s had in years.

They eat in silence, Steve joining Bucky on the couch. He leaves plenty of space between them, until he reaches over to steal a long sip of Bucky’s soda. Again, Bucky tenses, but Steve thinks he lets it go a little faster this time. In any case, Bucky gives him a little almost grin and swipes the bottle back from Steve without missing a beat.

“So, where’ve you been?” Steve finally asks. He hopes this is a fairly safe topic of conversation, and forgive him, but he’s damn curious.

“All around,” Bucky replies. “I’ve got a few different spots in Europe that I mostly move between. I was in Bucharest, the last few weeks. Got a little too comfortable.”

Steve tilts his head inquiringly and Bucky goes on.

“I went to the Christmas market. You know, stalls with candles and funnel cakes, live music playing. I think I was spotted.”

Steve doesn’t like to think about the life Bucky’s been living, where just trying to enjoy himself for an evening risks his life. Hopefully whatever Stark came up with is more than a short-term solution. Knowing Stark, it probably is – the man doesn’t do anything halfway.

Steve notices Bucky glance down at his empty plate, and his manners kick back in. “Want another sandwich?”

Bucky quickly shakes his head. “No, I’m good.”

“Cookie? Glass of milk?”

Bucky smiles. “Stark calls you an old man, you know. He doesn’t realize you’ve been like this your whole life. See your guy for the first time in years, and offer him cookies and milk. Smooth.”

Steve feels almost faint with it, the realization that this really is Bucky, the only person in the world that knows the real Steve Rogers. And he doesn’t miss “your guy,” dropped into the sentence as if it meant nothing. He wants to throw his arms around Bucky and never let him go. “God damn it, Bucky, I am so incredibly happy to see you.”

Bucky bites his lip, his expression almost shy. “Are you?”

“Bucky.” Steve draws in a deep breath, and slides a little closer to Bucky on the couch. “I couldn’t be happier. Nothing, nothing could make me happier.”

“I wasn’t sure,” Bucky says, looking down at his knees. “Stark said, but…”

Steve tries to calm the butterflies in his stomach, but he can’t hold back the question. “Buck, did you come here to avoid being framed, or to see me?”

Bucky narrows his eyes at Steve. “Come on, pal. D’ya think this is the only place in the world I could hide from HYDRA’s crook of the month?”

“But – I searched for you. Me and Sam – for months.”

“Yeah,” Bucky says, returning his gaze to his lap. “And then you stopped.”

It hits Steve like a blow, although he knows that it was the right thing to do at the time. He was needed, and Bucky knew where to find him. Still, knowing that Bucky wondered even a little, that Steve hurt him by his decision, is painful.

“And I get it,” Bucky says, setting his jaw. “You got everything you could ever want.” He gestures at the room. 

Steve thinks that now isn’t the time to get into precisely why Bucky is full of shit, and he guesses that Bucky wouldn’t really hear it, anyway. He probably doesn’t even believe it, if he remembers Steve the way he seems to. “Sam said if you wanted us to find you, we would have,” Steve says softly. “I think he was right. You clearly didn’t want us to find you. Not then.”

Bucky takes this in. He seems to be considering his next words far too carefully, and Steve wants to beg Bucky to tell him the truth. To confide in Steve. To trust him.

“What if…” Bucky trails off, unable or unwilling to go on.

“What if what?” Steve slides closer again. He lets his knee nudge against Bucky’s, and Bucky doesn’t pull back.

When Steve turns to him, Bucky looks as nervous as Steve has ever seen him, but Bucky takes a breath and forges on. “What if I want it now? To be found?” Bucky gazes at him, his gray eyes wide.

Steve raises his hand, slowly, and pushes Bucky’s hair away from his face. “Is that what you want?”

Bucky nods, and presses his cheek into Steve’s palm. “Yeah. I do.” 

“So”- Steve breaks off, afraid to ask, but more afraid not to – “you’re here to stay?”

“If you’ll have me.” Bucky closes his eyes, maybe as scared as Steve. 

“Of course,” Steve answers quickly. “Yes, yes, of course.” Then he leans in, not giving himself any more time to think about it, and lets his lips meet Bucky’s. It’s just a brush, barely a kiss, but Bucky presses back, and it sends fireworks down Steve’s spine.

“Stevie,” Bucky breathes out, his hands coming up to frame Steve’s face as Steve reaches to draw Bucky closer. Bucky’s reticence is gone, and he’s melting into Steve. Bucky’s warm and safe and here, right here, curling up against Steve’s chest. It’s everything Steve ever wanted.

“Gonna have to update my new year’s resolution,” Steve says, tugging at Bucky’s waist until he shifts and swings a leg over Steve’s thighs. Steve lets out a long breath, hardly able to focus as pleasure and disbelief surge through him in equal measure.

“Why’s that?” Bucky asks. He tilts his head, adorably coy, and Steve quickly accepts the invitation, dotting kisses down his neck until Bucky lets out a low moan.

Belatedly, Steve realizes he didn’t answer Bucky’s question, and he pulls back to find Bucky’s eyes. He can feel the grin stretching his cheeks, and he beams even wider when he sees an answering smile on Bucky’s face. “’Find Bucky’ doesn’t make much sense anymore. Now it’ll have to be ‘make him obnoxiously happy.’”

Bucky blushes, and guides Steve towards him for another tender kiss. He’s smiling again when they break apart. “Pretty sure you can check that one off your list, too,” Bucky says.

Steve’s heart soars, and he tucks Bucky in close against him. They kiss and murmur soft words, Steve still hardly believing that he has Bucky in his arms. He gives a delighted laugh, and Bucky starts, a slightly worried cast to his brow.

“What’s so funny?”

Steve sighs, nestling his head into Bucky’s neck and breathing him in. “When I woke up this morning, I was just trying to get through the day. Now-” he looks up, running his thumb along Bucky’s swollen bottom lip, and gazing into his eyes, “now I’m actually going to have a happy new year.”


End file.
